Once again, I have planted some hostas. Some meaning about a thousand. It’s not that I’m particularly crazy about hostas, it’s just that in our yard we have lots of shade trees. Shade trees and grass are enemies, thus there are lots of bare spots in our yard.
And each spring, the bare spots seem to grow and multiply, hence my ongoing planting of hostas.
I am not a gardener. I plop each plant down haphazardly, and say a quick Hail Mary over it. Don’t scoff – it works for quarterbacks. Sometimes.
I suppose there’s a patron saint of gardeners
, but there’s no point in my praying to him/her. Said saint would probably know how much I hate gardening and so would ignore my plea. “She doesn’t deserve my help,” Saint Green Thumb would intone. “She’s absolutely hapless with a spade and trowel, and she has no desire to better her skills.”
He’s right. I’d rather eat Brussels Sprouts than dig holes, plant, water, weed and whatever else gardeners do. In my next life, I intend to have a full-time gardener. And cook. And maid.
That’s not to say I don’t love flowers. I do. Flowers that other people have grown. Flowers that arrive via a delivery person, beautifully arranged in a beribboned vase.
I did, once upon a time, have a few houseplants. They didn’t survive inquisitive children and pets. Child
#1 to Child #2: “Let’s see what’s at the bottom of this pot.” Pet #1 to Pet #2: “Bet I can knock that pot over quicker than you can.”
Before I figured out that hostas are the solution to our grass-less spots, I suggested to Bing that a can of green spray paint might work. Or planting Creeping Charlie. He wasn’t too keen on either of those solutions, pointing out that we would probably be run out of the neighborhood on a rail if we purposely introduced Creeping Charlie. I don’t know why. It’s green and has little purple flowers sometimes. It even has kind of an intriguing name. O well.
That was not the only time I caused Bing to roll his eyes skyward. He liked to garden and once had a huge plot of sweet corn, melons, tomatoes and other veggie stuff. I was happy to eat the sweet corn, the rest of the stuff not so much.
Later, he just had a row of tomato plants in the back of our yard. I mowed them. I thought they were weeds. I wasn’t too popular for awhile.
O well – tomatoes are vastly overrated.
Watch for a new book, by Scott MacDonald, Think Like a Dog, due out in 2017. Scott’s book, Saving Investa, is available on Amazon.com now.